In this section, we take a look at plot developments that may have a bearing on the overarching storyline that began with Desmond in the Abstergo laboratory at the start of Assassin’s Creed. Browsing the series recap may help to fill in a few blanks or refresh forgotten details before you continue.
SPOILER WARNING! In addition to presuming a high level of Assassin’s Creed knowledge, the following content contains brutal Black Flag spoilers – not to mention countless attempts to second-guess developments for future episodes in the series.
What is the origin of the new Animus technology employed by Abstergo Entertainment?
Fully exploring all present-day sections of Black Flag leads to revelations concerning the history of the Animus project, and the existence of Abstergo’s Surrogate Initiative. These are witnessed via surveillance footage (and one personal recording) recovered from the home of Warren Vidic, long-serving director of the Animus project, following his death during the events of Assassin’s Creed III.
To answer this question, a recap of these “secret” events is necessary.
A small Abstergo R&D program established during the early 1980s as an offshoot of the preexisting Animus project, the Surrogate Initiative was led by a scientist named Aileen Bock. It is worthwhile to note that Aileen had no direct affiliation with (or, we are led to understand, awareness of) the company’s true nature as a front for the Templar Order.
At that point in time the core Animus team, led by Warren Vidic, sought to use the technology to explore the embedded ancestral memories of living test subjects: a familiar concept central to the Assassin’s Creed storyline to date. Having individuals experience specific moments in the lives of their own forebears was viewed as the most direct and promising application of the Animus hardware. It certainly appeared to offer the most immediate and valuable results. One of the principal benefits, we learn, was that the brain of each test subject somehow contributed to the mechanical procedure of Animus usage, enabling Vidic and his technicians to easily record a detailed audiovisual representation of their experiences for later analysis. For Templars seeking hidden First Civilization artifacts and long-lost information, this had very obvious applications.
By contrast, Aileen Bock’s Surrogate Initiative was an attempt to develop processes whereby a test subject could explore memories present in a genetic sample taken from another person entirely. This approach was fraught with technical difficulties and practical drawbacks. It was quite clearly physically exhausting, even intensely painful, and often led to active physical participation during the experience, an alarming form of “acting out” from the test subject. It was a far cry from the serene repose of a more conventional Animus experience.
Aileen’s small team struggled with the limitations of then-contemporary computing technology. The nascent Surrogate Initiative tech could not exploit the primary boon of the main Animus program – using the brain of the Animus user to process each session into an easily interpreted data stream – and so her team was forced to decode the information they obtained through 1980s computer hardware. With periods of immersion most accurately measured in seconds – at best, barely minutes – the results were far from spectacular, and markedly less impressive than the triumphs of Vidic’s team. It would take hours to process a simple audio feed; a visual representation of events could take months to generate.
The technology was also hampered by issues relating to bloodlines and compatibility. At this embryonic stage, it was not possible to utilize a sample from a random source. Aileen, as both project lead and primary test subject, used genetic material taken from her son. Even with their relatively high level of compatibility, her connection to the memories was tenuous and altogether fleeting. It is suggested that the prospect of experiencing memories from a separate lineage seemed to be a frustratingly remote possibility.
Granted a scant fraction of the funding and resources offered to Vidic, Aileen’s project was viewed as an R&D curio: an interesting future technology. By sheer chance, however, these experiments exposed her to a momentous event in the life of her son’s paternal grandmother – Aileen’s husband’s mother – that contained a reference to what we can assume to be a First Civilization artifact. This provided the Surrogate Initiative with a significant boost in funding from Abstergo’s Templar hierarchy, with instructions to explore the promising memory strand with care. This was a development that Aileen met with both delight and quite understandable incomprehension.
Aileen’s rising star (and complications in the main Animus project) aroused the cupidity of Warren Vidic. Having maintained a close eye on his potential rival via hidden surveillance for some time, the Templar worked to undermine a new rival while ostensibly providing support. Desperate to secure meaningful progress, Aileen pushed too hard, too fast, and experienced a memory in which her “subject” was tortured. This sensory input was so vivid, so profound, that it caused her irrevocable harm – and led to her immediate, permanent departure from Abstergo.
Though the accounts and insights offered by Vidic’s footage end with this final development, it can be safely assumed that the Surrogate Initiative continued under his direct auspices following Aileen’s accident. Absorbed into the main Animus project, but probably long maintained as a subordinate branch of research, years of parallel development enabled technicians to gradually overcome the most challenging technical and health-related considerations. Simultaneously, incredible advances in processing and storage technology would transform Aileen’s pioneering work from a raw and risky concept to an inevitability.
Why didn’t Abstergo use the new Animus technology with Desmond after his initial capture?
As Abstergo Entertainment are so close to the launch of the consumer Animus, it’s clear that the technology must have existed as an advanced prototype for some time – certainly before the kidnapping of Desmond. In the context of the broader Assassin’s Creed storyline, some may believe that this begs an obvious question: why enjoin a reluctant captive to reveal ancestral secrets, when you could instead employ a small army of researchers? Indeed, why kidnap anyone at all, when a stolen genetic sample might suffice?
The probable answer is that the technology simply wasn’t ready. But the influence of Warren Vidic may also have played a part.
It’s highly likely that Vidic favored the classic Animus technology because it offered convenience… and control. The ability to skip the process of sequencing and processing genetic data was an obvious perk: at the time of the first Assassin’s Creed storyline, Vidic was tasked to locate Altaïr’s Piece of Eden within a demanding deadline. More pertinently, though, this style of genetic interrogation accorded him with an eminent political position within Abstergo and the Templar Order. Rather than see credit dispersed through a large team and management structure (as was in place for Abstergo Entertainment), Vidic could claim personal prestige for each development.
After Vidic’s death in late 2012, it is likely that his power base within the Animus program fell apart. With that, factions within the company that favored a more distributed approach to genetic data analysis gained an irresistible momentum.
Though Abstergo Entertainment existed before Vidic’s demise, its role as the unrivalled driving force in Templar ancestral memory acquisition and research is a very recent development. This fact is underlined by the secret data files that provide information on Desmond Miles’s autopsy inside the Grand Temple. These serve to confirm that Abstergo scientists did not take genetic samples during his original stay in captivity.
This also explains the switch in nomenclature used by Abstergo to describe Desmond. As a test subject in the classic Animus project, he was Subject 17. As genetic material digitally sequenced and processed for use by Abstergo Entertainment, he – or more specifically, his genetic legacy – is Sample 17.
What is Abstergo Entertainment? And what do the Templars hope to achieve with this new division of their corporate empire?
Abstergo Entertainment is a subsidiary launched to exploit the commercial potential of a feature-limited consumer iteration of the Animus technology. This device enables users to take part in full-immersion experiences that are patched together from real lives via genetic memories, carefully edited and processed for popular consumption.
On a day to day basis, Abstergo Entertainment researchers – such as the mysterious, unnamed “player character” during the present-day section of the story – are delving into ancestral memories from Sample 17 to identify footage that can be adapted into Animus software. It is made clear that Abstergo technicians can then work with this data and process it into a cohesive entertainment experience. Sensitive information is excised, indelicate material expunged, and even principal “actors” can be replaced with more commercially appealing physical form.(Tellingly, memos discovered during hacking sequences reveal that Sample 17 candidates such as Altaïr, Ezio and Connor – all essentially lifelong Assassins – were appraised and dismissed as poor choices for Animus adventures.)
Though rewarded with outstanding financial packages, Abstergo Entertainment staff consent to draconian contractual obligations as a mandatory condition of employment. As we see during Assassin’s Creed IV, certain stipulations enable the company management to imprison and even drug employees without prior notice, or access to legal recourse. In return for this voluntary revocation of individual liberties, employees gain the opportunity to work with the most revolutionary entertainment device in the world: to be on the ground floor, so to speak, prior to its worldwide launch. It’s clearly an exhilarating place to be – and the small print be damned.
Most employees do not come into contact with sensitive material, especially genetic memories that pertain to Templars, Assassins and the First Civilization. For those who do, it’s clear that Abstergo’s Templar management have protocols and measures in place to ensure that such individuals do not break non-disclosure agreements. No matter how this is achieved (and we could clearly speculate for hours), one thing is certain: it works.
This brings us to the deeper purpose of Abstergo Entertainment.Whereas the original Animus program restricted Templar researchers to a single subject exploring one life at a time, this new (almost industrial) methodology facilitates the use of dozens, perhaps hundreds of researchers working on individual genetic memory portions.
Fundamentally, the Abstergo Entertainment office that we explore in the present is a data farm designed to yield a very specific harvest. Memories that concern First Civilization technology and valuable intelligence on the history of the Templar versus Assassin conflict? That’s the wheat. Everything else is chaff. And the ingenious thing is, it’s the chaff that the Templars intend to sell to the world.
The consumer Animus hardware itself could also be a Trojan horse, its apparent function concealing a more directly insidious purpose. For the Templars, mass-market penetration of the device could present a number of intriguing possibilities:
- On a basic level, the monitoring of users is a plausible (indeed, elementary) application. Propaganda is another possibility. If common-or-garden television could be regarded as a powerful agent for reinforcing and exploiting the false consensus effect, pluralistic ignorance, or other forms of widespread cognitive bias, just imagine the persuasive power of a full-immersion virtual-reality experience. With the right kind of material, a little subtlety could go a long way.
- In early Assassin’s Creed episodes, Abstergo aspired to launch a satellite with a Piece of Eden (a First Civilization device with the capability to control human minds, or alter their perception) on board, with a view to exerting global influence. What could they achieve with a must-have Animus device in the majority of homes in all developed nations?
- Naturally, revenue accrued from the launch of such staggering hardware would be a global sensation, generating a quite colossal revenue stream. Even as a broadly linear (perhaps passive) experience, the bowdlerized Animus offered to the general public would facilitate sensations and experiences that would make contemporary forms of entertainment seem akin to a ball and cup. The modern Templar Order is, unmistakably, an incredibly wealthy organization – but world domination (though some, naturally, would argue “salvation”) is an expensive line of business.
Why is Abstergo releasing the Animus technology, and using the official hardware name?
Due to the intensely valuable nature of the proprietary Animus technology, we can confidently state the mass-market device of the same name, poised for release at the end of Black Flag, is but a pale shadow of the true hardware. In all likelihood, it may be little more than a box running software designed to facilitate playback and an overall user experience from data streamed directly from the Abstergo Entertainment “cloud”.
As for the use of the Animus name as a brand, it’s quite a masterstroke. Effectively, Abstergo are hiding their technological advances in plain sight. The few souls who might have whispered darkly of leaked information and conspiracies concerning the Abstergo corporation and its Animus technology can more readily be dismissed as lunatics, luddites or trolls.
The Animus is not a secret technological advance exploited by agents of an aeonian global conspiracy – it’s a bleeding-edge piece of entertainment technology. Obviously.
Who – and what – is the Sage?
We all witnessed the twist, so let’s not be coy: the Sage and John from IT are both incarnations of Aita, a First Civilization entity, and Juno’s husband, who is somehow experiencing a succession of recurrent existences in human form. Before we discuss the broader implications of this development, it’s worthwhile to look back at the narrative path that led to this revelation.
Early in Edward Kenway’s story, during his rather artless attempt to infiltrate the Templar ranks for a quick, opportunistic profit, it’s easy to assume that the Sage is, if not an august soul possessed of great wisdom, at very least some form of mystic savant. As the existence of the Observatory is revealed by Laureano Torres, a conversation between the leading Templars first suggests that the Sage, though flesh and blood, is an entirely uncommon individual.
Woodes Rogers:“Do we know its [the Observatory’s] whereabouts?”
Laureano Torres:“We will soon. For in our custody is the one man who does. A man named Roberts, once called a Sage.”
Julien du Casse: “It has been forty-five years since anyone has seen a true Sage. Can you be sure this one is authentic?”
Laureano Torres: “We are confident he is.”
Woodes Rogers:“The Assassins WILL come for him.”
In the events that follow, though, we find that this Sage, Bartholomew Roberts, is a creature far divorced from our expectations. When Assassins launch an attack to free him from the grasp of the Templars, he slays an aspirant Brotherhood savior without a flicker of compunction. Roberts, we find, has little time for Templars and Assassins alike. As the story progresses, we gain a clear sense that Roberts is an amoral, murderous, slavemongering bastard.
And this is where it gets really interesting.
James Kidd delivers Kenway to the heart of an ancient temple, where the pirate is astonished to observe the face of Bartholomew Roberts set in stone. The sculpture is clearly hundreds of years old. Through this, we finally understand how Assassins and Templars, in Kenway’s age, have a clear understanding that a Sage of this precise visage appears at regular intervals.
Ah Tabai:“The statue in the temple. Was that the man you saw in Havana?”
Edward Kenway: “Spitting likeness, aye.”
Ah Tabai: “It seems another Sage has been found. The race for the Observatory begins anew.”
When Kenway’s persistence (and his quixotic campaign to obtain the fortune and glory that he imagines the Observatory might bring) leads to an unlikely alliance, Roberts extends the favor of a glimpse inside the First Civilization site before his double-cross…and the following candid admission:
“I was born with Memories of this place. Memories of another time entirely, I think. Like a… like another life I have already led.”
When Kenway finally catches up with his man towards the end of the story, the dying Roberts is even more frank:
Bartholomew Roberts: “You’re a stoic, then! Perhaps I was wrong about you. She might have had some use for you after all.”
Edward Kenway:“She? Of whom do you speak?”
Bartholomew Roberts: “She who lies in wait. Entombed. I had hoped to find her, to see her again. To open the door of the Temple and hear her speak my name once more. Aita…”
Edward Kenway: “Talk sense, man.”
Bartholomew Roberts: “I was born too soon, like so many others before.”
The present-day revelation that John from IT is another recurrence of Aita enables us to draw a few plausible conclusions:
- The Sage is one man: Aita, Juno’s husband.
- Aita is born in human form at regular intervals, perhaps every 40 to 50 years – in Kenway’s time, at least.
- Born to different parents, and, presumably, in different locations, he always has the same facial features.
- Aita has a reasonably clear recollection of his life from tens of thousands of years before, but does not appear to be experiencing a continuous existence: he always begins each life in the same state.
- Above all else, Aita professes to be driven to find Juno – by whatever means necessary.
Though both Roberts and John from IT are decidedly unsympathetic characters, the character of Aita is fascinating. He is a First Civilization mind trapped in what, to him, is an alien mind and body, surrounded by a civilization founded by creatures that his kind created as slaves.
What is the science behind the cyclical recurrence of the Sage? What causes Aita to be reborn?
Aita himself, in his “John from IT” existence, gives a clue that can help us to venture an answer to this question:
“It was her Juno’s experiment that made it possible for my rebirth as one of… these things.”
From her conversations with Desmond in Assassin’s Creed III we know that Juno led a bioengineering project: one of the six “methods of salvation” explored by the First Civilization prior to the Catastrophe. She claims that Aita, her husband, volunteered as a test subject. When a failed experiment left him in a catatonic state, with no hope of a cure, she chose to end his suffering by her own hand.
We also understand that the First Civilization attempted to preserve their genetic lineage via an interbreeding program with their human creations: another admission by Juno, this time at the conclusion of Brotherhood. It’s by this process that individuals with a high concentration of First Civilization genes (such as Desmond and his ancestors) can access the power of the so-called Eagle Vision. Even though Juno actually dismisses this as a pale reflection of the full “sixth sense” possessed by her kind, we learn that this capacity is latent in all humans.
Though First Civilization technology is clearly capable of feats that might seem fantastical, we are reminded by Bartholomew Roberts that it is grounded in advanced science. Consider his choice of words to an astonished Edward Kenway after the latter first witnesses the use of the Crystal Skull:
“Every mechanism that gives this device its light is a true and physical thing. Ancient yes, but nothing supernatural or strange.”
The continued existence of Juno (and digital afterlife of Subject 16, with her guidance) proves that transcendence – the transfer of a mind from one vessel to another – is entirely plausible as a technology. The story of the Observatory and Crystal Skull also make it clear that the mechanical processes embedded in human DNA, a critical element of the Assassin’s Creed story, do not simply record the existence of each individual: there are clearly other, hitherto untold applications.
Considering these facts leads to an irresistibly plausible conclusion: that prior to his death in her time, Juno duplicated and “planted” Aita – in the form of data that contained his memories and unique physical form – into human DNA during the First Civilization’s interbreeding project. When certain conditions are met, which will statistically happen at semi-regular intervals, Aita is born again. He is a cuckoo’s egg placed in the human genetic nest – a remarkable feat of brood parasitism by his long-lost wife.
After the Toba Catastrophe (a real-world theory that, at least in part, inspired the fictional Catastrophe that led to the extinction of the First Civilization) over 70,000 years ago, it is estimated that the population of Homo sapiens in Africa fell to between 1,000 and 10,000 breeding pairs. In the context of the Assassin’s Creed storyline, this provides the basis by which the latent “potentiality” of Aita could have spread around the world.
In the early 1700s, during Kenway’s story, the world population is estimated to have been in the order of 650 million. At this time, the Templars suggest that a Sage is found approximately every 40 to 50 years. The world population in 2013, however, now exceeds 7 billion. If there is any truth in our proposed theory for the dissemination of each Aita throughout history, it is possible that there could be multiple iterations of Juno’s long-lost husband in existence during the present-day storyline. It could be that John from IT had a number of twins out in the world – or exceptionally loyal accomplices…
Is Aita aware of his previous human existences? And if not, how does he know so much about the history and practical realities of a civilization far different to his own?
What Aita experiences each time he arises is not reincarnation, or metempsychosis: these suggest a continuity of soul or awareness. It is, in the plainest explanation, a “respawn”: a mind and body that always begins in the same state. All he ever remembers at the beginning of each new incarnation is his original life as Aita, husband of Juno.
That said, every Aita is inevitably a little different to the last. Even though he has the same physical form and memories, he arrives to different parents in another part of the world, and is informed by a life of different experiences. Who can say how many recurrences have died during or shortly after birth, or due to disease, starvation or violence, long before they could hope to approach the Observatory?
How can Aita (especially as Bartholomew Roberts, a man living in the 18th century, far from the Information Age) possess knowledge such as the existence of the guardians of the Observatory, the fact that the Observatory is now 80,000 years old, or the minutiae of the roles played by the secretive Assassin and Templar factions? Assuming that he always begins as a tabula rasa other than his original Aita memories, there must be some other means for him to acquire knowledge – a way for him to bridge the gap between his first existence, and each of his isolated secondary existences over time.
One explanation is that Aita, though perpetually cursed with a blank awareness of the milieu he is born into, is nonetheless possessed of sufficient wit and industry to locate First Civilization sites close to his place of birth. After all, he can hardly have attempted to reach the Observatory in every incarnation. Prior to the European colonization of the Americas and advances in naval technology and techniques, it’s not as if he could just charter a ship to the Caribbean. It may be that his most successful existences brought him into contact with First Civilization technology or recorded information that enabled him to learn more about the world. Not everything – but enough.
Another possibility to consider is that, though Roberts and John from IT profess to have not seen or heard Juno, this does not mean that she has not seen Aita. Has she somehow steered her husband in accordance with her grand machinations? This would certainly be in keeping with the character we witnessed in Assassin’s Creed III.
A third likelihood is a composite of the above explanations, but with the added twist that Aita was not just cast adrift into the human bloodstream. Instead, he and Juno devised a clear plan beforehand. He is, at least to some extent, aware of her intentions, knows that she safely exists somewhere in the world during his every resurgence, and will one day be reborn. Perhaps they discussed the practicalities of the lives that would lie ahead of him, recurring within the ranks of humans. He and Juno could easily have identified First Civilization sites all over the world that only he would know of, and could use as “dead drops”. In every successful incarnation, he could visit the site closest to him and leave messages and items to gradually expand the knowledge of the Aitas who would follow. This would enable subsequent iterations to exploit clues left by their forebears, and gradually accumulate a large body of knowledge.
The final theory is substantiated by a comment from John from IT just after the postponed return of Juno, and moments before he was killed by security guards:
“I envy you! It was her wish that I be here to greet her.”
Regardless of his background, the act of seeking, discussing or researching anything relating to the First Civilization has clearly brought each Aita into contact with Assassins and Templars. They are, after all, moths drawn to the same flame. Whether offered voluntarily, inadvertently revealed or confessed under duress, he might have disclosed information that has stoked the fires of the conflict between the two factions. We see him make fairly candid admissions to Edward Kenway in the past, and the unnamed Abstergo researcher in the present. This could mean that a significant sum of Templar and Assassin knowledge of the First Civilization and its technology might actually have been disseminated by Aita himself over 80,000 years.
What did Aita hope to achieve in the Observatory, or by using the Crystal Skull? How could he use the device to find Juno if he didn’t have her blood?
His declared motive was to locate Juno. The disappearance of the First Civilization blood vials indicates that his visit had another purpose. After many presumed attempts, it is suggested that this was his first time inside the building in human form.
After the death of Roberts and the later confrontation with Laureano Torres in the Observatory, Kenway and Ah Tabai have the following conversation:
Ah Tabai: “We will seal this place, and discard the key. Until another Sage appears, this door will remain locked.”
Edward Kenway: “There were vials when I came here last. Filled with the blood of ancient men, Roberts said. But they’re gone now.”
Ah Tabai: “Then it’s up to us to recover them. Before the Templars catch wind of this.”
Who took the blood vials? Given that Torres and most of his men were slaughtered in the chaos that accompanied the activation of the Observatory’s security system, it’s a fair bet that Roberts had spirited them away earlier. But where? And to what end?
If we jump back to the moment when Roberts and Kenway first enter the Observatory, there is an exchange that offers a clue:
Edward Kenway: “More blood vials.”
Bartholomew Roberts: “Yes. These cubes contain the blood of an old and ancient people. A wonderful race, in their time.”
Edward Kenway: “The more you talk, man, the less I understand.”
Bartholomew Roberts: “I don’t expect you to. Only remember this: the blood in those vials is not worth a single reale to anyone anymore. It may be again, one day. But not in this epoch.”
It could be that, with the right technology, the vials of blood can be used to revive former First Civilization minds – perhaps to transfer a “save state” to a new (and presumably human) vessel. The disappearance of these vials rather corroborates their status as objects of great potential value.
It is also an event that reinforces the possibility that Aita is not motivated solely by a desire to be reunited with his lost wife, and is playing an arranged role.
How does the Crystal Skull device found in the Observatory work? What is its purpose?
This new plot development indicates that the processes embedded within human DNA don’t simply serve to record data, as experienced with the Animus technology: they also broadcast it in real time. To view this audiovisual feed, you simply need an appropriate interpreter/projector (a Crystal Skull), and a means of identifying the precise signal of the target – blood. In essence, the vials of blood are akin to telephone numbers or IP addresses.
The appearance of First Civilization blood within the Observatory’s archives indicates that the precursor race, by choice or design, perhaps had a similar or identical form of genetic “machinery” to the human slaves they created. This could have been employed to track the final remaining members of their dying race in the post-Catastrophe world.
Juno (and her co-conspirators in her original lifetime) may also have used the Crystal Skull device to obtain information on other technologies developed by the likes of Minerva and Tinia. It certainly presents a logical method by which Juno could obtain enough information to subvert Minerva’s “prognostication” project, and to steal, then exploit, the transcendence technology that facilitates her continued existence (not to mention the comparatively bite-sized recurrences of Aita).
What did the Templars plan to do with the Observatory? And why did they apparently “forget” about its existence (and the Sage) after the death of Bartholomew Roberts?
As you might expect, they intended to use it as an unprecedentedly powerful tool for espionage. As Roberts demonstrates the power of the Crystal Skull to Kenway, they witness the following conversation:
Woodes Rogers: “You have a bold Idea. But I must think it carefully through.”
Laureano Torres: “A simple pledge of loyalty is all you need suggest to the House of Commons. An oath, a gesture, and a simple ceremonial dram of blood taken from the finger. That’s all.”
Woodes Rogers: “The ministers may give me trouble, but it should be easy enough to convince the House of Lords. They do adore an excess of pomp and circumstance.”
Laureano Torres: “Exactly. Tell them it’s a show of fealty to the king… against those revolting Jacobites. The crucial detail is the blood. You must get a sample from each man. We want to be ready when we find the Observatory.”
With this subterfuge, the Templars could use the power of the Observatory to pry into the lives of friend and foe alike. This could provide the Order with priceless and powerful leverage: raw information, blackmail material, logistical data accurate to the very second. This is confirmed when Kenway assails Woodes Rogers, who offers a traditional Templar rationale for infringements of individual liberties:
Edward Kenway: “I’ve seen the Observatory, and I know its power. You’d use that device to spy and blackmail and sabotage.”
Woodes Rogers: “Yes, and yet all for a greater purpose. To ensure justice. To snuff out lies and to seek truth.”
Limitations on communication and travel in the 1700s, not to mention the availability of a single Crystal Skull, would have doubtlessly tempered the potential ambition of Templar conspirators in possession of the device. In the present day, however, we can assume that Abstergo scientists might reverse-engineer the technology for reproduction: an alarming prospect. And yet, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear, the concept of the Sage and the Observatory practically dropped out of Templar history until the present-day events of Assassin’s Creed IV. Even though Kenway dealt a savage blow to the Order by eliminating a number of its leading agents, it still seems strange that this prize would become little more than a forgotten footnote in Templar records.
Unless, of course, this was all entirely by design and execution. Could Aita himself, perhaps in his next guise, have somehow excised himself from the secret history known only to Templars and Assassins? Which leads us to…
What is the “Manifesto of the Instruments of the First Will”?
The Manifesto is a text that can be found in the present time. Written by a so-called “true disciple”, it posits that mankind is but a tool created by the First Civilization, and must therefore willingly relinquish free will in favor of servitude to its ultimate progenitors. The tone of the piece suggests that the author regards this surrender as no less natural than a hammer yielding to the outstretched hand of a blacksmith.
The Manifesto could be seen as evidence of the existence of a third, secret faction – especially as it refers to “True Templars”, willing to act as servants of the First Civilization. Is this a new form of crusade established by Aita?
It seems curious that conventional Templars would submit to the discipline and obvious compromises inherent to this new movement. After all, the words and deeds of most senior Order figures encountered throughout the Assassin’s Creed story so far suggest that, though they wish to usher in a new world order, they hardly intend to be direct subjects of it. They will be the overseers, the custodians, the very shepherds of humanity, and would not wear the figurative shackles that would serve to becalm the more distasteful proclivities of their flock.
But then: not every Templar is a Torres, a Borgia, an Al Mualim, or even a turncoat scion of a Kenway. So who are these Instruments of the First Will? Let’s consider a few options:
- They are most likely (perhaps predominately) Templars who have come to regard the return of the First Civilization to be inevitable. They conspire to be in a position of relative favor when that day comes, rather than buried or uncompromisingly enslaved along with their more conventional kith and kin. Some animals, after all, will always be more equal than others.
- Their numbers may include other First Civilization individuals planted in the human ancestry by Juno, who have been located and invited to march under this new banner… or even new additions somehow cultivated via the blood samples taken from the Observatory.
- An exotic, certainly unlikely, but nonetheless interesting idea: each acolyte is actually a recurrence of Aita, who now exists in multiple concurrent bodies as a consequence of the explosion in global population. If he had a vanishingly small probability of existence in the limited post-Catastrophe gene pool, and a rate of rebirth more regular than Halley’s Comet in the 1700s, he might now arise several times per generation. (This would explain, to an extent, his readiness to embrace “suicide by cop” when discovered by Abstergo security guards – more on which shortly.)
Greater social mobility, cultural latitude, improved standards of education, ease of communication and the plausibility of long-distance travel may have made it markedly easier for each iteration of Aita that followed Bartholomew Roberts to move unmolested in the wider world. If you can recall his conversations with Kenway prior to their arrival at the Observatory, he appeared intrigued (even positively tickled) by the concept of creating his own “creed” for the men by then under his command. This may have offered a hint of foreshadowing – a suggestion of what Aita, through coincidence of innate character or a prompt somehow left for a future self, would later attempt.
Even if Aita has not personally initiated and nurtured this new cabal, it may be that his disappearance from living memories and written (albeit secret) histories is a consequence of steps taken by the Instruments of the First Will.
Alternatively, it could be that the entire piece could be a fanciful, feverish exercise in zealotry written by John from IT, and distributed in a coded format in an Abstergo (ergo Templar) establishment by a man increasingly estranged of his senses. Observing John and (to a perhaps lesser extent) Bartholomew Roberts, it’s possible that the experience of living within a human body and mind robs Aita of more than a measure of rationality.
What is the substance that John from IT injects into the unnamed present-day “player character” at the end of the game? And why does he commit “suicide by cop” when exposed?
Aita, as John from IT, appears preposterously assured in his role at first. He directs the “player character” to conduct corporate espionage as a father might ask a child to perform simple errands. As events unfold, he casually grants the favor of escalating security clearance, and orchestrates the delivery of data to a pair of Brotherhood agents – one actively employed in a coffee concession stand as a passive observer, the other a courier – who can clearly approach the Abstergo Entertainment building without fear of discovery. In short, John has a commanding position. He is creating, curating and maintaining complex computer systems, which presents him with extraordinary license to abuse the trust of employers and colleagues who simply don’t understand his craft. What’s more, he’s clearly capable of circumventing any attempts by Abstergo (by extension, the Templars) to maintain effective oversight of his activities.
It’s evident that John from IT, with the visage of Bartholomew Roberts, who is ultimately Aita, revealed in that Bunker scene, is clearly disturbed by the distinct lack of anticipated fruition. Juno does not adopt the “player character” vessel, as he had imagined, and Aita is evidently disquieted by this. But the moment where he injects the “player character” does not scan as a murder attempt. After all, Aita has a firearm on his person. Why inject a victim with a poison when you can simply shoot (or, for that matter, throttle) them? And, moreover, why turn on two trained security guards with a weapon after shouting a surreal exhortation?
Note, as well, the words chosen in his martyr’s valediction:
“Guide me into the grey, beloved! I AM YOUR INSTRUMENT!”
Looking back at these events, it’s clear that Aita had no intention of killing the “player character”, and intended to die – indeed, it’s possible that he arranged his own discovery. His final actions reek of “plan B”, even if he does seem a little divested of his wits during the prior monologue.
Think back to Melanie Lemay’s facial expression as she delivers these lines after the “player character” regains consciousness in her office:
“A doctor came by. Said there wasn’t anything to worry about. That the liquid in that syringe was far, far below a lethal dose.”
The evasive shift in Melanie’s eyes and expression as she says this, perhaps the act of an individual seeking to disassociate themselves from an uncomfortable lie, might indicate that these words are spoken as an edict issued and not entirely understood. Even the words themselves are curious: far below a lethal dose, and nothing to worry about? The “player character” is also told that (s)he was a suspect in the Abstergo Entertainment intelligence leaks prior to John’s death, but now – apropos of a gun, a syringe, a madman – is in the clear. It’s just a little too convenient, and might suggest that the Templar hierarchy (which cannot be entirely oblivious to the significance of these events) is watching, and waiting to see what happens next.
And why? Well:
- If John from IT didn’t intend to poison the “player character”, he certainly attempted to introduce some biological or technological agent of note into that “tender body”. What might that have been? A tracking device? Data? Some form of device or chemical with a later purpose? It may be that there actually was a sub-lethal dose of poison in the fluid, designed to act as a masking agent, and obfuscate his true intentions. As regards Melanie’s awkward response in this eventuality: how would you attempt to explain to an employee that a co-worker attempted, but failed, to kill them with poison injected via a syringe? Or, by managerial mandate, attempt to pass such an event off as somehow being no more consequential than the theft of a sandwich from an office refrigerator?
- If Templar leaders were unaware of Aita before, they’re now almost certainly focused on John from IT’s background. Bartholomew Roberts pleaded with Edward Kenway to destroy his body to prevent it falling into Templar hands. By contrast, John from IT all but ambulates his corpse directly to an Abstergo autopsy. Did he intend to be caught? And if so, why? What might happen if his genetic memories are explored?
- “I am your instrument”: too particular to be a coincidence, this seems to confirm Aita’s involvement in the prospective third faction that the Assassin’s Creed IV story appears to introduce.
Why was John from IT leaking secrets to the Assassins? And why were Shaun and Rebecca able to operate in the reception area without apparent fear of detection?
Desmond was obviously known to Abstergo, of course, and his father William presumably has a privileged position in games of “locate, question, strangle” enjoyed by elite Templar operatives in their quieter moments. By contrast, Rebecca Crane and Shaun Hastings were backroom staff: the former a technician, the latter a historian. These are not individuals that we have come to view as being frontline Assassins. While discussing John from IT’s actions after his death, Becca quips: “We take who we can get!” – a playful comment that might also reference the Brotherhood’s diminished ranks and her unorthodox assignment.
In the event that Rebecca and Shaun feature in Abstergo security advisories (quite possible, given their association with Lucy Stillman – a triple agent), we can only assume that John from IT had taken steps to disable or adjust facial-recognition software associated with pertinent lobby camera feeds.
As to why these unlikely operatives are on this assignment, the conclusion of Assassin’s Creed III saw them flee with Desmond’s father from the Grand Temple before Juno’s “ascendency” and, we learn in Black Flag, just prior to the arrival of an Abstergo recovery team. As the Brotherhood is aware that Juno may now exist in the global telecoms network, they have been assigned to learn more about her whereabouts. As Shaun states, they are extremely interested in Abstergo’s cloud servers. John from IT was their contact in the Abstergo Entertainment office, and we can only guess his motives for working with them. That said, Juno appears to have pitted Assassin against Templar (and vice versa) to suit her requirements on more than a few occasions, so it may be that John from IT had a defined goal in mind.
One thing that we can definitely say about the espionage conducted by Rebecca and Shaun is that the disappearance of Olivier Garneau, CCO of Abstergo Entertainment, was almost certainly a Brotherhood operation (and a direct consequence of hacking by the “player character”). As to how much they know of Juno’s whereabouts and intentions, or the true identity of John from IT, we cannot possibly say.
Why did the attempt to reincarnate Juno in the player character fail? And what is the meaning of Juno’s message?
Juno confirms what we suspected from her words at the end of Assassin’s Creed III. Her mind is still alive, no longer anchored to the Grand Temple, and she now exists in (or has free access to) global telecommunication networks.The idea that she might be capable of exploiting the technological dependency and sheer interconnectedness of the modern world is confirmed by John from IT just prior to his death:
“I wish I could explain all this strangeness, but there isn’t much time. The short of it, is you saw my beloved Juno. And for a brief moment I thought she might occupy this tender body of yours. But something went wrong. And now she’s back out there. Adrift. Oh… she was magnificent once. One of a race of beautiful, wonderful creatures. They created your kind. Did you know that? Your people were tools to them. That’s all you have ever been. That’s all you should ever be! One day soon, I hope. For the world is nearly ready for her return! Wired. Prepared for a second coming!”
Though Aita gave his wife a vessel to occupy, Juno judged the timing to be inauspicious. Her final words during her brief appearance make it clear that she does not yet have the resources to enact the endgame of her 80,000-year plan.
“There is more work to do, more samples to acquire, more artifacts to find, before my will may obtain.”
There is a good chance that, as Templar goals are broadly aligned to her own (it’s all about whose hands hold the reigns once they have been put in place, after all), Juno is also waiting for them to inadvertently lay the groundwork for her ascendency. This may even be related to the imminent roll-out of the consumer Animus tech.
Anything else?
Before we end our analysis, there are a number of stray observations that we would like to share. Many of these ideas, questions and suggestions concern plot developments that might carry over into future Assassin’s Creed episodes. Most of these suggestions will transpire to be little more than wild speculation, and must be taken with a pitch of salt. But still: discussing ideas such as these will help to while away the time until a new Creed installment offers definitive answers…
- Templar possession of John from IT’s body is obviously a huge event. If his genetic data were to be sequenced as Desmond’s has been, what might Abstergo researchers find? And, given the almost voluntary nature of his death (he’s clearly unhinged, but that explanation cannot suffice: this is an individual who successfully held down a senior role in a major Abstergo facility), what might Aita secretly intend for them to find?
- As the Observatory and Crystal Skull in the Caribbean practically disappeared from annals of the Templar Order at some point after the death of Bartholomew Roberts, it’s reasonable to assume that Abstergo has dispatched a team with precise GPS coordinates to visit that location. What might they discover on arrival? One explanation for the sudden disappearance of the Sage from history might be that Aita’s subsequent visit to the Observatory was rather more successful. If that were the case, what might be left for the Templars to find?
- The Assassins are clearly searching for clues on Juno’s intentions and whereabouts, but also appear to have the means to learn more about Abstergo’s new Animus tech – it’s safe to assume that the missing Olivier Garneau is a guest of theirs.
- If the consumer Animus hardware is dependent on the Abstergo “cloud” and direct connections to their servers, is this something that Juno can exploit in her current form?
- Black Flag focuses primarily on the life of Edward Kenway, but it seems implausible that Abstergo would not have specialist, loyal Templar researchers concentrating on Desmond’s life (and, moreover, the pre-conception history of his father, William). If this were to be the case, the Templars might learn the locations of Brotherhood compounds, and much more besides. What could this mean for the present-day war between the Assassins and Templars?
- Here’s an interesting thought: the Animus is being rolled out to a mass-market audience, with its software offering “canned” full-immersion experiences designed around edited memories. We can safely surmise that this will be a global sensation. But given the opportunity, how many people wouldn’t leap, wide-eyed and wallets outstretched, at the possibility of reliving cherished moments from their own lives? For an organization that would demonstrably profit by obtaining blood samples from millions of people, might this be a killer app for a later stage in consumer Animus development? It’s rather more plausible than the method suggested by Laureano Torres 300 years before: “An oath, a gesture, and a simple ceremonial dram of blood taken from the finger.”
- Isn’t it rather bizarre that Aileen Bock’s early experiments in the Surrogate Initiative led her to such a specific moment in the life of her husband’s mother – an event that alluded to some form of First Civilization artifact hidden during World War II? This catalyst seems almost designed to arouse Templar interest. It led to direct attention within Abstergo, an increase of funding, the involvement of Warren Vidic, and, ultimately, the development (and later mass-market development) of this advanced offshoot of Animus technology. Revelations and Assassin’s Creed III cemented Juno’s role as a master manipulator; Black Flag introduces the concept that other First Civilization minds may also be at work. In this context, it seems entirely unlikely that Aileen’s historical discovery was pure happenstance.